


Flower Crowns Are For The Dead

by sirsquidfish_thefirst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bisexual Molly, Crack, F/F, F/M, Greek Mythology AU, Hades and Persephone AU, Minor Character Death, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsquidfish_thefirst/pseuds/sirsquidfish_thefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't take another step. I'd hate to harm a pretty woman like you," purred the figure, stepping from the chariot almost lazily and taking steps towards Molly languidly. With each step, yellowed grass followed. </p>
<p>  "Get away from me," Molly snapped, a snarl etched on her lips. In defense, she threw out a hand and willed wild vines to wind around the stranger's legs, thick and spiny and wretched. </p>
<p>  A fleeting feeling of victory washed over Molly as the figure paused, glancing down at the vines. The feeling was burnt away with the vines when they crumbled to ashes. Before she knew it, she had been drawn into the figure's arms roughly, those same piercing eyes staring her down like she was young prey. </p>
<p>  "Hm. Demeter's daughter, then. Power over plant life is useless and unnecessary. It does no good to distract and harm someone when you're in trouble, Lady Persephone." The blue eyes narrowed, and without warning, the helmet was thrown to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Crowns Are For The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Long time no see. Sorry for taking so long to publish one story. I'm always busy anymore, but I'll still manage to post as many stories as I can write when I have the time. Thanks for your amazing patience.  
> As always, I don't own BBC Sherlock or any of its characters. Unbeta'd and unbritpicked. For this one, I basically loosely based the story on the original myths then tore them apart. Oops. My sources for the myths and other little tidbits that are true to the original stories I got from Wikipedia (hey, it's actually pretty reliable!) and Robert Graves's _The Greek Myths_. That about wraps it up.

The rippling reflection of her face smiled back at the young woman who was gazing into the water. Lightly she brushed her hand against the crown of flowers sitting atop of her head. It was a combination of blues, pinks, and purples with a dash of yellow. It was gorgeous.

"Do you like it, lady?" 

She turned to see a nymph shifting on her feet bashfully. Her smile widened.

"Yes. Your hands are very skilled with the plants that flourish here. I'm sure my mother would enjoy a crown as well," the woman crooned, reaching up to take the nymph's hand and rubbing her thumb along the knuckles. The nymph blushed.

Their surroundings were of woods and a little gurgling creek. Intoxicating scents of wildflowers in bloom filled the air. Soft twitterings of birds and other creatures filed in and out of their ears pleasantly. On the bank of the creek stood a smaller figure and knelt a mousy-looking woman.

"Lady Persephone, you're as sweet as the flowers on your head."

A tinkling laugh escaped the girl. "Minthe, do not allow me to become accustomed to your kind words."

"Oh, but they are not merely words. They are the truth," Minthe insisted, kneeling beside her lady and sitting back on her heels. Her pale green dress fluttered as she did so.

Deep brown eyes met emerald. "Thank you. Not everyone believes me to be kind."

"That is a lie." Minthe's voice became firm. "You're loved by many, and you have both gods and mortals who seek you as a wife."

Persephone caressed her darkened cheek. She was beautiful. "I don't wish to be married to any suitors quite yet."

"Why?"

"Because I have you," Persephone breathed, and she pressed her lips against the nymph's own.

She tasted sweet.  
~*~  
The gods and goddesses had personal names they used to refer to one another. Mortals were forbidden to hear the names lest their body and soul burn away.

They could have more than one name that they used, but in most cases they used a specific one.

Cinnamon haired and fair Persephone was Molly.

"Your mother wishes for your presence." The voice broke Molly from her thoughts, and she looked up to see a robed woman leaning against an oak tree.

"Hello, Lady Hecate. Tell my mother I'll be inside soon," she replied gently, turning her attention back to the grass under her feet. She knelt down and studied the blades for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly. A sunny smile lit her features, and she waved her hand over the green. Flowers of all sizes and colors popped up in a wink.

Hecate settled a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Little one, Demeter is awaiting you," the woman cooed. Molly frowned a little.

"I'm anything but young, miss."

The goddess smiled slightly. "To me, you are but a newborn. Come along." Hecate tugged Molly to her feet (only after the younger goddess had picked a few of the flowers she had summoned—it was for fun, yes, to see what her developing powers could do, but it wasn't without reason as well) and led the way to the residence of Molly's mother.

The temple that Molly and her mother lived in was far from any humans. It was relatively small, clay brown and solidly built, but homely. There was only one room in it with two windows, the floor covered with sheepskin to replace the dirt underneath. A hearth for offerings given to them by the humans existed in the very back. They could've accepted a throne at Olympus and resided there instead, but Demeter wanted to keep her distance from the gods. Besides, she found the mortals amusing and wished to watch their advances with agriculture.

Ducking under the rather low entrance, Molly pressed into the little temple to kneel beside her mother. She was sat on a woolen cover, her eyes closed. She looked as if she were asleep.

"Mother, I brought flowers. Hecate told me to come as soon as possible, she even helped me here..." She trailed off, glancing around for the goddess before sighing softly. Perhaps there were mortals in need again. Often they prayed to her for help at a particularly difficult crossroad of life.

Her mother turned to her and smiled wearily. Molly found herself in her mother's embrace, and she eagerly returned it. "I'm very happy for the flowers. Where did you get the crown?" Mother inquired, gently brushing the hair from her daughter's face and touching the plantlife assembled on the tresses.

"A nymph did, Mother. She and I have been...close." Molly glanced away to watch the birds chase the butterflies outside the window. 

Mother hummed. "Close? How so? What is her name?" She cooed, taking the flowers from Molly's hands and placing them in a vase atop the hearth.

The girl hesitated. "Friends. Her name is Minthe," she finally said, albeit slowly. Demeter had been looking for a suitor for Molly, but she had turned down all of them. All Molly wanted to do was live free without having to worry about a family. Minthe was who she wished to stay with, anyways.

Perhaps she could persuade her mother.

Not today, though. It was too beautiful of a day to be inside.

"I'm going to go back outside, Mother," Molly said softly, kissing her mother's cheek. 

Before she could react, Demeter's hand had shot out and grabbed her arm gently. She turn Molly to face her. Mother looked worried.

"Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

Mother shook her head. "Don't joke about something like this, love. I have a feeling...that there is a person seeking you to be their wife. Take your friends with you and do not ever be alone, understood?"

To this, Molly nodded, causing her mother to relax slightly. "Now go. Be back before night breaks. Have fun."  
~*~  
An ever-increasing sense of being watched was the first thing on Molly's mind that night. She didn't know how or why, but it was chilling to the bone.

At first, she dismissed it. The feeling would eventually fade away. Some nymph or naiad had probably been walking about to find her.

Then the feeling kept coming back to haunt her every time she went somewhere.

Indeed, she kept someone around her every time she went out. 

Minthe and Molly were falling deeper into love with one another. They were almost caught kissing on the banks of a rushing river by a drunken saytr. He had been crashing about and giggling with a tree nymph, so that gave the couple on the bank enough time to separate and flee.

Later, when they were both settled on a patch of grass underneath the rapidly fading sky, they had laughed about it. The goddess and the nymph then kissed once again, now under a field of stars and the bright moon and the neverending expanse of black sky.

When they parted, it was in the middle of the night. Molly was getting up to leave until Minthe grasped her hand firmly. "Wait. Persephone, I have a gift," her silvery voice cooed from the ground. Molly looked down with a soft smile.

"You do not have to give me things to woo me. Your presence is enough," Molly replied gently, caressing the girl's cheek. A fetching blush covered her cheeks.

Minthe stood and stepped towards Molly. Something was in her clenched fists. "I insist. Here, take it."

The nymph placed two flower crowns in Molly's open palms. Interspersed in the flowers were fragrant green leaves. Molly furrowed her brows slightly. 

"What are the new plants, my love?" She hadn't seen them before, much less smelled them. However, they weren't anything bad as far as Molly knew.

Her lover's face lit up. "I don't know what to call them. I was with a satyr, playing in the forest, when we stumbled upon a patch. It's very lovely, isn't it? I thought the green would compliment your eye color," said Minthe excitedly. "I made one for your mother as well."

It was Molly's turn to blush. She was _full_ of surprises, Minthe was. "I'm...in great gratitude of your actions, darling," she murmured, bringing Minthe's hand to her mouth to kiss the back of it. "How may I repay you?"

"A goodnight kiss would suffice."

Giggling, Molly took Minthe into her arms, bent her back, and pressed her lips firmly against her lover's. Finally, Molly pulled away and took in a shaky breath. "I'll see you in the morning, then," she whispered, nuzzling against her neck. 

"Okay," Minthe breathed back.

Molly set Minthe down on the grass gently. Her face brightened suddenly. "Ah, but I have a farewell gift for you," she purred. She knelt down and pressed her hand against the ground, brows knitting together. She pulled her hand up, and a single red rose snaked up from the ground, thornless and fresh. The goddess plucked it then tucked it into Minthe's hair and kissed her forehead.

As Molly sauntered away, she didn't get to see the look of pure affection and adoration on Minthe's face. 

The crown of flowers and strange leaves sat on Molly's head as she hummed and fiddled with the other one, making her careful way back home. She knew that it was well past nightfall, but her mother's paranoia was worth getting to see her love. Perhaps she could meet Minthe by the old oak stump where the younger nymphs and satyrs played. It was always fun to watch and even partake in their childish activities.

Chills abruptly started to run down her spine. There it was, the prickling feeling at the back of her neck, like someone was watching Molly...

She spun around, wide eyes searching the darkness. Always watched, it seemed, yet she could _never_ find the suspect.

Shuddering, Molly quickened her steps towards her home. A snapping twig behind her caused her to break into a run, terrifying alarm seizing her. By the time she reached the house, she was gasping for breath among teary eyes and dry throat.

Breathe. _Breathe. You're not being followed. You're home and okay._

When she could finally take in steadied breaths, she noticed that her mother was in a deep conversation with someone else inside. Curious, she took the remaining steps towards the window and peered inside.

"...is that she's an easy target. You know how the gods are now. They sleep with and capture whoever they wish. Keep Molly here." Why was _Hecate_ inside?

Her mother rubbed at her face tiredly. "Kit, we've been _through_ this. Persephone—Molly, whichever you prefer—won't be held back. She'll go where she wants. She always has friends with her to accompany her. I'm worried for her, too, but I haven't...heard from her about being harassed."

_Kit?_

Hecate's eyes flashed with something akin to anger. "That is because she won't be expecting it when she's attacked. Have you ever heard of a tactic that involved telling the enemy your plans? Or, in this case, announcing to your victim of choice that you were abducting them and gave them enough time to run away and seek help?" She hissed. 

Tears threatened her mother's eyes. "I don't...understand why they'd want to take my daughter," she said quietly.

The expression on Hecate's face softened at the sight of her mother crying, and she bent to wipe the tears away gingerly. "Let me take care of Molly. Let me teach her the art of magic, of witchcraft. _Let me teach your child how to defend herself,_ and I promise she'll be as strong as you or me when the equinox is upon us," she whispered, cupping Mother's cheek. Molly saw her mother lean unconsciously into the goddess's touch.

"I could not bear to not see my daughter for that long, though."

"Would you rather it be me or a filthy little thief? At least with me you know she will return."

Molly's mother turned away; though Molly couldn't see her expression, she could hear Mother's voice laden with dread. "I trust you, Kit, it's that...Molly won't understand, she'll try and escape. She doesn't like feeling chained up. She won't understand," she sighed.

Hecate knelt in front of her mother and took up her hands. "Talia, she will learn to accept it. Worry about what will happen to her if this is not done, not what your daughter thinks."

Infuriated, Molly turned away from the window and gazed out at the darkened grass beyond. Why did _they_ think they could dismiss her thoughts as unnecessary? It was ridiculous. She could very well take care of herself. Soft touches brushed against her leg, and she looked down in surprise to find a small garden of plants at her feet. In her anger, the ground had responded to her feelings. Currently, ivy was slowly climbing up her leg.

She scowled at the vine and shook it off before making her way to the entrance of her home. This had to stop.

"What makes you so sure that I _will_ understand?" Molly inquired furiously. While Mother and Hecate glanced up quickly in surprise, Molly was already standing in front of them. "You know _nothing_ about me and my feelings towards subjects."

Demeter furrowed her brows slightly before shaking her head. "I told you she wouldn't understand, Kit."

A hand cupped Molly's chin and brought her gaze up to meet Hecate's. Mild irritation and a hint of apprehension (surely not) was contained in her eyes. "Persephone, listen. This will be for your own good. Do not be fooled by your own emotions—"

Molly laughed bitterly. "As if you would know about another's thoughts! I refuse to be held captive by anyone. I will roam free as I please," she spat.

Something in Hecate seemed to snap. She suddenly stood up straight and looked at Molly's mother in the eyes. "Don't say," she started gently, "that I didn't warn you, Talia." She then gazed down at Molly almost regretfully and dragged a finger along her cheek. "And you, little one, you are _certainly_ in for a surprise someday."

The next moment, Hecate was striding out into the moonlight, vanishing like a mirage before Molly's eyes.

Soft sniffling brought Molly's attention back to her mother. Why was she crying?

"I only do the best for you, my love. Please, understand this—"

Molly swallowed but turned her gaze back to the window, watching the stars flickering above. "I know. I'm too selfish to understand. But I refuse to be chained like a hound and forced to obey commands mindlessly," she replied stoically.

_I deserve what's coming. Every bit._ The words caught in her throat and died in the roof of her mouth. 

"Molly. Persephone. Look at me, I beg of you."

The devastation in Mother's tone made her breath hitch. Slowly, she turned and faced her mother. Tears tracked down as rainfall. 

Kneeling, Molly pulled a cloth from her dress and dried her tears with a soft sigh. "I'm selfish," she repeated, leaning her forehead against Mother's and biting her lip.

Strong arms wrapped around her. "No, you aren't. You're blessed with a gift I nor your father could ever understand. You're kind, Molly. You're sweet and gentle and everything I could never be. We will not even mention your father. He's too much of an ass to understand."

A giggle slipped past Molly's lips, and she leant further into her mother's hold. "Careful what you say," she warned jokingly.

"Your one weakness is your lust for adventure and freedom. You will have neither one day if you continue to frolic carelessly," Mother cautioned, and Molly pulled away to gaze at her with furrowed brows. The doe eyes she had inherited looked right back at Molly.

"What do you mean?"

"You will be captured and held, as Demeter had said. You will be lucky if you see the light of day again."

With a nod, Molly relaxed back against Mother. Lips pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I don't want to lose you."

Her mother heaved a sigh. "Nor I, you," she mumbled into Molly's hair. Molly could feel tears falling into her hair. She didn't say anything about it.

"I have something for you." Molly wriggled away and produced the flower crown to her mother and placed it upon Demeter's head. "Minthe made for each of us. They're gorgeous, aren't they?"

Mother touched the crown lightly, confusion on her features before they rested in a tired smile. "It's lovely."

Molly agreed. The poppies woven between the leaves complimented her hair.  
~*~  
"Persephone, do hurry! Khloris is going to show us the wild patch of berry plants she found while picking flowers!"

Grinning, Molly ran after Minthe, following the group of naiads and nymphs that had been established as her guardians through the open knee-high grass. She hiked up her robes and ran even faster, laughing loudly as a raven zoomed past her ear. She loved everything about being outside as the sun began to sink towards the horizon. The insects chirped, birds sang, and the heavy scent of night approached ever so slowly. 

As her mother became more and more worried about Molly, more and more guardians were assigned to protect and watch Molly. Not that she minded; every single one became her friend eventually. It just bothered Molly to think that her mother was being so paranoid to the point of over-protectiveness. It also gave her less and less time alone with Minthe, up to the point she snuck out regularly at night to meet her at the river's banks.

Maybe she had been too harsh with her mother.

"You're as slow as a turtle, Lady!" Teased a nymph ahead of her, breaking her from her thoughts.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Perhaps, but at least I don't _look_ like one," she shot back.

This insult slowed the girl down, allowing the goddess to slip past breezily. "Your turn to catch up," she called over her shoulder casually.

Something bright out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. In her surprise, she slowed to a jog then finally walked back to the place she had passed. In a narrow crevice off to the side of the valley, there was a patch of beautiful wildflowers in all colors and shapes. She hadn't seen any like them, so she inexplicably felt herself being pulled towards them. Could she be able to grow them herself? Surely so; nonetheless, she had to gather some to analyze them.

Molly glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was following, then she hurried towards the patch of plants. Oh, they smelled _lovely_.

Kneeling in a growth of red (her favorite color), she began to pick them, humming happily to herself. She brought a bouquet of them to her nose and breathed deeply, smiling brightly. Yes, her mother would enjoy these.

A tremor through the ground made Molly frown and clamber to her feet, her hands clutching the bouquet tighter. Possibly the satyrs had dislodged a rock in a drunken stupor? She had heard of it happening many times before. Why would this be any different?

Still...the assortment of creatures were probably ages ahead of her because of how long she had stopped.

Nervously, Molly looked around, taking a few steps towards the opening she had entered moments before. Another rumble made Molly start to sprint towards the exit, her breaths becoming quick and hard. She slid to a stop suddenly, her eyes widening and trembling lips parting to utter a choked noise of fear. 

There was an entrance she had went through, surely there was. How else had she gotten through then? 

In disbelief, Molly made her way to the wall covered in growth and placed her hands on it. Solid. It was built from stone.

"Oh, no. Please, this can't be happening..."

Trembling legs took several steps backwards. Nausea filled Molly. "I can't get out," she finally managed to say in a broken voice. A crazed giggle which quickly turned to a sob escaped Molly's mouth, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Crying wouldn't get her anywhere.

Shaky breaths filled Molly's lungs over and over. She turned around to walk back to the red flowers and looked back at the wall now looming. She could climb out by manipulating the ivy and moss, most likely. 

A hot, tingly feeling rose in Molly's hands, and she stared at the wall as more twining leaves inched along the stone, forming holds for her here and there. When she was finished, she glanced down to see a large assortment of blooms at her feet. Typical. 

Molly straightened her back and walked right towards the obstacle, eyes continuously fixed on it. In the next second, it seemed, a growl arose from the earth, and a shake rolled through the ground, strong enough to throw Molly to her hands and knees with a scream.

After her head stopped spinning, she looked up in time to see the earth yawn wide, spilling a chariot pulled by flaming beasts onto the grass. Riding in the transport was a figure clad in iron and plum cloth, a helmet sitting low on the head so piercing blue eyes peered eerily out. A ring of dead and withered plants surrounded the entire scene.

One look at the figure had Molly on her feet and rapidly backing away. Under her feet, with each step, blossomed young flowers that reacted to her rising panic.

"Don't take another step. I'd hate to harm a pretty woman like you," purred the figure, stepping from the chariot almost lazily and taking steps towards Molly languidly. With each step, yellowed grass followed. 

"Get away from me," Molly snapped, a snarl etched on her lips. In defense, she threw out a hand and willed wild vines to wind around the stranger's legs, thick and spiny and wretched. 

A fleeting feeling of victory washed over Molly as the figure paused, glancing down at the vines. The feeling was burnt away with the vines when they crumbled to ashes. Before she knew it, she had been drawn into the figure's arms roughly, those same piercing eyes staring her down like she was young prey. 

"Hm. Demeter's daughter, then. Power over plant life is useless and unnecessary. It does no good to distract and harm someone when you're in trouble, Lady Persephone." The blue eyes narrowed, and without warning, the helmet was thrown to the ground. 

Molly gasped aloud. "Oh, my," she breathed without realizing.

If she had been impressed with the man's deductions, she was astonished by his beauty. Inky curls highlighted with reddish browns tumbled over his head and brow. Glacier cold eyes stared Molly down, taking notice of every little detail about her it seemed. High cheekbones, pale skin, barely-there stubble...

Then an image of her lover flooded her mind, telling her to get away, to escape from this man because he was danger and death, and run for freedom while she could, reminding her of her mother and her friends and _her_ made her jerk out of the man's hold and hurry backwards, wide brown eyes studying the man for his reaction.

She didn't have to wait long.

The man surged forwards and gripped her arm in a tight hold, frowning down at her. "I do apologize in advance, Lady, but it gets quite lonely in the Underworld," he sighed. He swept the now kicking and yelling Molly into his arms and carried her without much difficulty to the chariot. Roughly he sat her down in it and gathered the reins of the steeds in one hand, the other hand on Molly's shoulder. He snapped a command, and the animals made their way back into the cavern of darkness they crawled from. 

"Please, someone _help_! Mother! Minthe!" Molly cried, wriggling in the corner of the chariot. 

And just like that, they were swallowed by darkness, the hole in the earth sealing up immediately. 

The last thing Molly saw before that were the red flowers lying abandoned on the ground, surrounded by dying grass.  
~*~  
Cold. Molly was cold. Why was it so damn cold? She hated cold. What was she lying on? Had she fallen asleep on a rock? Then again, the satyrs probably had talked her into drinking some of the fermented nectar or wine they had gotten from some god. Maybe Minthe was still around, she could help her warm up...

_Minthe._

Molly shot up and opened her eyes, looking around in wild shock. It only increased when she saw that she was somewhere she didn't recognize. She had been lying on tile which explained the cold, but the high ceiling and carved pillars of marble holding the ceiling up didn't hold much explanation as to where she was. Her legs held her somewhat steady as she continued to gaze around in a mixture of awe and agitation. Where _was_ she?

"Nice to see you're awake, Lady," drawled the baritone voice she had heard earlier. Molly turned around sharply to see the man who had dragged her away sprawled across a throne of jewels and... _were those bones_? 

"The dramatic increase of pressure made you pass out as we descended. Don't worry. I haven't touched you since then, promise." He smirked and sat upright in his throne, cataloguing Molly's features. "Have a good rest, then?" He sneered.

"You wonder why you were lonely in the first place?" Molly snapped back.

He chuckled and shook his head before standing, gliding over to Molly. "Feisty. I like that," he murmured, reaching out and cupping Molly's chin. She slapped his hand away without a second thought, growling low in her throat. How _dare_ he touch her as if she were a prize to be won.

"Hades. That is my name. Though I doubt your mother would have talked much about me or any other god for that matter," he said with a slight scowl. He shook his head then smiled darkly at Molly. "You'd best get used to me and the Underworld. This is where you're staying for as long as I can help it," he growled.

Molly took a shaky breath. Suddenly there wasn't enough air around her. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. You will be residing here with me and my servants, who will give in to your every demand."

No. No, she had Minthe and Mother and the nymphs and—

Hades laughed and made his way back to his throne, sitting atop it and waving her away with his hand. "Go ahead and try to find a way out. There isn't, I can tell you right now," he cooed.

Molly gave him a disgusted look, eyes full of tears, before bolting out of the throne room at top speed. The hallways were long, too long, lit with torches and branching off into separate rooms. She finally reached a balcony and ran to it to gaze around outside of the palace.

She immediately regretted her decision.

Agonized screams and the sticky scent of death filled her ear and nostrils, and she backed into the palace again, gagging and choking on tears. This was...hell. She was living in an inverted version of the earth, not bright and green but dark and red with the blood of wretchedness.

The goddess finally found a room to calm down in and cry without having to be worried about being seen. Why didn't she accept Hecate's help? Why could she never see further than her own desires? This was all her fault, and she could _never_ go back and fix it.

"Oh, John...Sherlock's gone and done it! He's scared the poor girl from her wits."

Molly let out a little shriek and jumped up from the bed she had been sulking on. Standing by the doorway was a man and a woman. The woman had spoken apparently, because she gasped and held a hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear. I've just gone and scared her too," she whispered, frowning slightly.

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Well, we can't just stand here and stare, Mary."

Rubbing away her tears, Molly smiled at them. They seemed much nicer than Hades. "No, no. It's okay. Who _are_ you, though? If you don't mind introductions," she giggled softly.

The woman seemed to swell with pride at that. "I'm Mary Watson, and he's just an idiot," she replied cheerfully. The man scowled at Mary and elbowed her lightly in the ribs, earning a pout from her.

"I'm actually John Watson, and she's married to 'just an idiot'," he said, walking towards Molly with Mary and taking her hand before kissing the back politely. Mary did the same and winked at Molly. 

_Definitely_ nicer than Hades, she decided.

As it turned out, the Watsons had both qualified for Isles of the Blessed, John for three lives in military service, and Mary for saving people left and right in her previous three lives. They had met and decided to marry each other, then Hades had requested them for his right hand personnel. 

"Sherlock is just...very lonely," Mary finished, glancing in the direction of what Molly assumed was the throne room almost sadly. 

"Still doesn't excuse why he kidnapped me." Sherlock was his preferred mortal name. A beautiful facade for an ugly interior, she supposed. Pity.

John smiled and shook his head. "He's not terrible, Lady. He's a merciful ruler and only punishes those who disobey severely. His deduction skills are an amazing thing to see, but I imagine you've already been introduced to them. Someday you'll have to see him assigning souls to the various areas of the Underworld."

Molly glanced out of the window and bit her lip. "My name is Persephone, this he already knows, but my mortal name is Molly. Pass it along to...Sherlock." Why was she doing this? Maybe it was because she thought Sherlock had true potential to treat her well.

Minthe crossed her mind every single moment that first night. In the spaces between, she dreamt of her mother and Sherlock and the land above. 

That first night, she danced in a field of skulls and those leaves Minthe had shown her that night long ago. It smelled of anxiety and sweetness.  
~*~  
Gods didn't need to eat to survive. They ate because their physical forms needed to.

Molly was famished. She had been in the Underworld for almost a month. For that entire month, Sherlock had talked to her twice: once that first meeting, and again to direct her to her permanent bedroom. The bedroom was too large for her liking, and his chilling phantom servants had given her a wardrobe full of clothing, but Molly never complained and only wore what looked like she usually wore in the land of the living.

Other than that, Sherlock ignored her. Even at dinner (she never ate anything), he was quiet and most of the time left halfway through. It looked like he didn't eat anything or next to no food. That was fine with Molly. It meant he wouldn't pressure her into eating. 

She had heard a few stories of the Underworld, mainly about the banishment of Kronos and Uranus to Tartarus, but only once had she heard of what would happen if she ate food in the Underworld. From what she recalled, she would forever be trapped there, unable to return to the surface and see her loved ones again.

Then again, her memory was a bit muddled. The lack of sunlight and fresh air seemed to reduce her brains to mush.

Nonetheless, Molly erred to the side of caution and ignored her hunger. She could survive. She could live without food if it meant she could see Minthe and Mother again.

Molly's mind wandered to the first time she had met Minthe. It had been at the very bank of the river where the two often resided in their spare time. A sunny day and rather warm, Molly had sat down at the bank and slipped her feet into the water. It had been blessedly cool and pleasant.

She didn't notice the nymph until she was behind the goddess. "Miss...are you lost? I have never seen you around these parts."

Molly jumped and turned her gaze sharply to the girl. "Who are you?" She demanded, pulling herself up and standing in front of the nymph. 

"Minthe," she said quickly, eyes darting to the sides of them before focusing on Molly. The slightest of blushes appeared on Minthe's face. "Yes, you _must_ be lost. I would remember a pretty woman such as you in vivid detail if our paths had crossed earlier on."

This made Molly hesitate then smile slightly at Minthe, a blush of her own crossing her cheeks. "You flatter me," she whispered, tilting her head. "I like you, Minthe. I am Lady Persephone, daughter of the mighty goddess Demeter," she continued proudly, straightening her pose. She wasn't about to admit to it, but Minthe was gorgeous as well. The nymph surely had a lover of her own. Would Mother be angry if she found her daughter frolicking with a girl instead of a king or a god?

_Too soon. Focus._

Minthe beamed up at Molly. "Oh! Demeter is so very kind to the nymphs and naiads. She isn't fond of the satyrs, though, from what I have been told," she murmured. At this, Molly laughed softly and took Minthe's hand, cool in contrast to her own skin.

"Tell me more. I want to know you, Minthe, and be the best of friends."

They had sat on the riverbank and chatted as the day wasted to night. Only at the beginning was the ritual once in a while, then weekly, then it was soon daily.

Then, one night, Molly had kissed Minthe. The nymph didn't resist.

From there on they were lovers albeit secret to everyone but the few they trusted.

"Hey, Mols?" Mary's voice floated from the doorway, and Molly glanced up, blinking slowly.

"Yes?"

"Erm..." Mary shuffled on her feet, biting her lip before pressing on tentatively. "Sherlock would like to meet you for dinner in the dining area tonight. Said he needed to apologize for how he's treated you so far. John and I won't be there nor will anyone else. I have some...business to attend to with John, if you know what I mean," Mary purred, raising her brows suggestively. It took a moment before a deep pink colored Molly's cheeks.

"Oh! So you mean, like, um...you know," Molly said awkwardly, getting up from the bed and making her way to Mary. 

"Sex? Yes, love, that's _exactly_ what I mean. Don't be so shy about it, it's completely healthy," she giggled, linking her arm through Molly's. 

Molly shook her head. "I'm not _shy_ about it, Mary, I've been told it's wonderful, but...I've never actually done it, so I cannot speak from experience," she admitted.

Mary nudged her lightly. "Want details? John and I—well, just me, I think—would be happy to tell you stories."

"No, absolutely not. I don't need the mental images."

The laugh Mary let out made Molly smile slightly. Perhaps she didn't need to go above to feel happy.

_What are you thinking? You have Minthe and Mother still._

The goddess shook the thought away and followed Mary to the roomy dining hall. At the lengthy table, only one person sat in a chair at the very end of it: Sherlock.

"Good luck, dear," whispered Mary, pushing Molly towards the seat at the opposite end of Sherlock.

Before Molly could thank the woman, Mary was already gone. She took in a shaky breath and turned her attention to the man evaluating her every movement in his offsettling way with his hawk-like eyes. He suddenly smiled at Molly, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

"I take it your...stay has been as pleasant as possible?" Sherlock inquired.

Scowling didn't seem like the best choice at the moment with her captor staring her down. Molly did it anyways. Best to not let him see her fear. "It would be far more pleasurable if I hadn't been taken here in the first place."

"Hm." Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly before picking up his goblet and sipping at the liquid contained in it. "You're a bold one, aren't you?"

Molly stiffened and finally tilted her glare away from Sherlock. Instead she took in her surroundings. It was considerably lighter in the dining hall than anywhere else in his palace, thought it was decorated in much of the same way.

"You can't stay like this forever, you know," Sherlock sighed. The creak accompanying his voice told her that he had sat back in his chair. "I'll eventually get to you."

"And so _what_ if you do? What if I _never_ warm up to you, huh? Are you going to go about and find other women to woo into being your lover? Or are you going to take the quick way and kidnap them?" Molly snapped, sharply turning her gaze back to Sherlock. He seemed surprised at her outbreak for a moment, but he quickly arranged his features into nonchalance. 

"It was merely a statement. You'll warm up to me."

Burning anger filled Molly's body. "And, like I just said, what if I don't?" Molly asked in a hushed voice, dangerously low and filled with venom. She threw as much fury into her gaze to top it off. 

Sherlock's expression turned icy. "Don't do this, Molly," he warned softly. 

Their conversation was broken when one of Sherlock's ghouls placed a plate of food in front of each of them. Cold silence filled the air as one gazed at the other. The older god then glanced down at his food and pursed his lips. "Ah. Lamb. It really is not bad, Lady," he murmured. "Try some."

Molly's stomach rumbled out of the blue, and she stood up without warning. "I'm not hungry," she said hollowly. A sudden wave of tears filled Molly's eyes, and she ducked her head to make sure Sherlock didn't see them as she ran from the dining hall. Behind her, she heard Sherlock let out a slow breath and curse quietly.

Silently, she crept outside to the courtyard, plopping down on a marble bench and staring in front of her, unseeing as she let the tears trail down her cheeks.

"I just want to go _home_. Is that all to ask for?" Molly mumbled then swallowed hard. The faint noise of anguished souls filled the background, but by then, Molly was used to it.

She missed Mother. She missed her friends. She missed the rain, the sun, the vibrant colors of the flowers, the fresh scent of grass...

Most of all, she missed Minthe. Her soft darkened skin, her emerald eyes, her long black hair, her lips on Molly's...

Did she miss Molly? Was she awaiting her return, or had she already found another partner to take? To be fair, Molly _did_ disappear rather suddenly.

Molly sniffled and wiped away her tears. That was when she felt a presence. She shuddered a sigh and sagged. "Go away, Sherlock. Let me wallow in self-pity," she said. 

Sherlock slid onto the bench next to Molly, a respectful distance from her. "I apologize for my actions tonight, Lady Persephone," he replied. "They were ugly and deserved an apology."

"Did Mary or John tell you to say sorry?" Molly growled under her breath. Sherlock chuckled.

"Both, actually. But I am sincerely sorry for my actions, Molly. I hope you will accept my words graciously. If not, I understand." His eyes on her, watching her eagerly, finally made Molly turn to face Sherlock.

"I accept your apology. Now let me go home. I want to see the birds and trees and actual proper grass, not broken glass and sand," she muttered.

Sherlock suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid that your mother...has made the earth look like a devestation," he said tentatively.

_What?_

Molly blinked at him. "Why do you say that?" She inquired curiously.

"Well, she didn't take the news of her daughter getting kidnapped too well. Every living thing on earth is starting to die because she refuses to let anything florish. Humans are dying out and starving to death in effect." 

"Show me," she said suddenly, standing and cupping his cheek. Startled by the contact, Sherlock's cheeks flushed a little. If she couldn't go home, then she'd damn well make sure to take advantage of Sherlock's infatuation with her. "I know you have a way."

"There is a basin in my throne room—"

"Excellent," Molly purred, winking at him. This was the most contact with each other that they'd had since he had taken her by the arm the day he had taken her. She didn't care if it meant she got to see what was happening.

The god furrowed his brows and stood. "You _will_ see some very dark images, Molly. You won't enjoy it," he warned. She wanted to ask if she'd enjoy it any more than what she had staying with him, but she bit her tongue.

"It's fine. Just let me see."

When they had reached the throne room, Sherlock immediately went towards a stone basin in the corner near his throne that was filled with what looked like oil. Molly peered over his shoulder and cocked her head a little.

He cleared his throat. "Show us the demise of Demeter," Sherlock demanded loudly, and the surface of the basin shimmered. He pulled Molly over and bent her over the oil so she was staring into it. "It will stop when it knows you've had enough," he whispered into her ear.

The oil convulsed, and Molly was now looking at her mother, kneeling at the earth where Molly had been taken. She looked devastated. Molly's heart fluttered a little at the sight of Minthe shifting beside her, looking scared out of her wits.

"I swear on the Styx, Lady Demeter, Lady Persephone was right behind me and in front of the naiads. When I looked back...she was gone. I backtracked to try and find her, but...but I couldn't find her," she told Molly's mother shyly, her hands clenching by her sides. Demeter looked up at Minthe with a teary eyed smile. She gently took Minthe's hand and squeezed it. 

"It's not your fault, love. I'm sure that she's okay. We just need to find her."

Minthe nodded back and smiled.

The scene shimmered, and Molly was observing Mother walking about in a field, Hecate conversing with her calmly.

"She's been kidnapped by a god. Any mortal or minor god would've returned her by now for fear of punishment. This god is either full of themselves or just too selfish to give her back," Hecate told Mother, her eyes following her around.

"I should've listened to you and let you take her. She wouldn't be gone. She wouldn't...be..." Demeter collapsed to her knees, sobbing loudly and covering her eyes with her hands. Molly suddenly noticed that all of the greenery was dying, shriveling to nothing. Skeletons of trees surrounded the two goddess, and there was not one animal to be seen or heard. For once in Molly's life, everything on earth looked cold and bleak.

"Lady, you're not alone in this search. You have me," Hecate reminded her mother tenderly, approaching her and wiping her tears away with a scrap of cloth Hecate procured from thin air.

Molly's mother sniffled and shuddered, getting to her feet and glancing up towards the sky which was grey with clouds. "I haven't seen little Minthe around," she said, a sad smile on her lips. "I miss her optimism."

Darkness clouded Molly's eyes, and she took this as a signal to step away from the basin. Slowly, she took a breath and turned to Sherlock, twisting her robes in her hands nervously. Sherlock sat on his throne and rose his hand to silence a little girl that was talking with him. He stared for a couple of seconds before nodding to Molly, giving her leave.

Molly heard Sherlock talking to the girl about how much she missed flowers and wished there were some sprinkled around the Underworld as she left the room.  
~*~  
More and more souls that were starved to death due to Demeter's plight filled the Underworld as it continued in a more severe degree every day. It was getting so bad that the gods and goddesses started in on the search for Molly.

This didn't seem to worry Sherlock, but Molly was upset that so many were dying.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" She pleaded him one night, earning a look from Sherlock.

"Send you back to her, of course. I don't particularly want to yet."

Molly frowned. "Why not?"

Sherlock refused to say anything about it afterwards.

It tore Molly's heart in two to especially see the young children wandering into Sherlock's throne room, biting at their thumbnails and crying loudly, not having the slightest idea of where they were and what had happened to them. Many times Sherlock even had to tell the kids that they were dead. To Molly, he handled it well. He usually let Molly play with them as he decided with the judges where exactly to place the children. 

Molly was wandering around the outskirts of the palace one day, gazing at the scenery. Sherlock's home was settled in the middle of all five rivers of the underworld, the closest being Cocytus: the river of wailing. Something inside her made her start to veer towards the very river. The disjointed cries chilled Molly to the bone, but instead of getting louder as Molly got closer, they instead decreased until there was nothing but a still quiet.

Odd. It was strange to think that Sherlock was perfectly comfortable below the ground.

Molly's concentration broke when she saw a figure trailing along the banks of the river, often glancing down into it to study carefully until deciding to start walking again. Her brows creased in confusion. She had been in the Underworld long enough to know that souls shouldn't be getting out of their assigned areas. Unless Sherlock specifically made orders to move an individual (which rarely happened), they stayed where they were commanded to reside for eternity.

She saw the figure stop and stare up at a spot on the shore, then the figure began to move towards it. With a frown, Molly hurried to catch up to at least get a glimpse of the perpetrator. She knelt between some dead bushes (growth in the Underworld was often dead) and watched as the figure shed its cloak and approached yet another figure.

Wait. That looked like...

Long, black hair. Dark skin. An outline that Molly was all too familiar with...

No. It wasn't.

It couldn't be, yet it was...

"Minthe," Molly breathed. Tears welled in her eyes from happiness, and she nearly bolted from the bushes when a rumbling voice broke the silence.

"You shouldn't be wandering about. I'm surprised you haven't dissolved into hysterics by now," Sherlock growled out. It was then that Molly saw the other figure was Sherlock. Obviously he was conversing with Minthe. "You need to find Persephone. She needs you."

Minthe smirked up at Sherlock. "Who's Persephone? Whoever she is, she sounds pitiful, fawning over a girl like me," she laughed, sauntering to Sherlock and reaching up to caress his cheek. He smacked her hand away, glowering down at the nymph.

"Careful, _girl_. I could very well turn you into stone and stand you in my throne room," he warned. Minthe only shook her head, still giggling to herself.

"I'm not afraid of you. For goodness sakes, you look like a tree branch. Though a rather nice tree branch, I must admit," she hummed. Sherlock's lips twitched into a slight snarl as Minthe leant up and kissed along his cheekbone softly. "How about we...see if you can change my mind about all this?"

Sherlock yanked away and grabbed her chin roughly, jerking her gaze up so it met his burning one. "Do you remember Lady Persephone? She loved you with her very being. Surely you could remember a woman like her through the fog drifting in your mind. She misses you. She _needs_ you. Tell me, Minthe. Tell me that you remember." His expression turned slightly hopeful, while Molly's lungs seemed to give out. What happened to Minthe? She wasn't like this when Molly last saw her.

Then again, that had been nearly five months ago.

Minthe narrowed her eyes at Sherlock. "Who, may I ask, is Persephone? She isn't a prostitute, is she? I can promise that I'm not going to go sleeping around with whoever I meet. If she's a slut, then I'm a pure woman. I'm _better_ than her. Promise," she purred.

Suddenly Molly couldn't see or think straight. She sat down heavily on the fine white gravel, tears tracking down her face. This time it wasn't in happiness. 

Minthe didn't know who Molly was or even loved her anymore. She thought of Molly as filth.

_Better than her._ Maybe Minthe was right. Maybe she was loads better than Molly.

Nothing really seemed to matter to Molly anymore.

"It's as I feared. You are forbidden to go inside the gates. I apologize," Sherlock said quietly. There was a protest from Minthe, a thundering, then there was a stillness that Molly couldn't remember hearing for a long time.

"I can't _believe_ that he thinks me below a whore. He'll see. I am much better than this _Lady Persephone_. Ugh," Molly heard Minthe mutter.

Sniffling, Molly shot to her feet and moved to see Minthe. A shriek sounded from the nymph before she clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in shock. They then narrowed again, and Minthe folded her arms. "So. Spying on me, were you?" She snapped.

Molly wiped at her eyes and gulped. "I w-wasn't spying. I was just...making sure something wasn't wrong," she muttered. Minthe snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Save the drama, miss. Who are you?"

Perhaps Minthe would remember if she said her own name.

Molly drew herself up. "I am Lady Persephone," she told Minthe.

Minthe quirked a brow. "You're the one that Lord Hades has drawn into his bed then? Not very impressive. And I'm supposed to know someone like _you_?"

Sickening feelings spread in Molly's limbs and body. "You don't remember any of those days? With the naiads and satyrs? Underneath the stars and beside the rivers and wandering through the forests? Do you even know who I am?" She asked quietly.

Smirking widely, Minthe reached up and patted Molly's cheek mockingly. "Darling, I wouldn't even _want_ to remember a girl like you. I really don't see what Hades sees in you," she cooed.

Anger suddenly arose in Molly. "Fine. It's one thing to not remember, rightfully so, but to insult me repeatedly and without remorse..." She clenched her fists, taking in a sharp breath. One last time. Minthe could still remember.

"You really should be running along. Hades might have a use for you soon. That's all you are to him: a toy. I do know this. I was abandoned long ago," she murmured, voice trailing off as her brows furrowed. Molly's hopes rose only to fall again when Minthe followed up with, "What do you know about abandonment, anyways? You've probably had more lovers than Zeus himself."

She wasn't ever going to recall Molly and their past together. Never.

Molly smiled sadly and touched Minthe's shoulder lightly. "Do you remember the little green leaves you found and put in a flower crown for me and my mother so very long ago? It smelled sweet. You said you couldn't think of a name for them," she whispered. The hot feeling in her hands were starting, and Minthe was starting to feel it.

Minthe widened her eyes and started to struggle against Molly. "You're crazy. I don't even know you. Leave me alone," she said in a panic. Molly's grip only tightened.

"I thought of a name just now for them," Molly continued, staring into Minthe's emerald eyes.

The nymph was crying now. She stared up at Molly in a mixture of fear, fury, and realization. "What? What are you even saying?"

Her hands were burning against Minthe's skin, and Minthe actually cried aloud. "I didn't mean to leave you, Minthe."

Minthe's eyes clouded over, and she looked at Molly in the eyes. "Lady, I...feel faint," she whimpered.

Then a flash, and a field of green leaves covered the white gravel. Minthe was nowhere to be seen. Molly collasped to her knees in exhaustion and sorrow. She lightly brushed her fingers against the ground and pulled a single black rose, full and fresh, from the rock. This she sat neatly in the middle of the fragrant leaves and stared at for the longest time.

"I decided to call them mint leaves, love. For you," Molly whispered, shoulders starting to shake with silent sobs.

She wasn't sure how long she had knelt at the site when the crunching of feet on gravel sounded behind her. Molly turned and saw Sherlock standing above her, holding out his hand. On either side of him were a worried looking John and Mary. She blinked up at him and slowly stood, holding onto Sherlock.

"We have a lot to discuss," Molly said weakly. "I don't think I can walk, either." It wasn't that she wasn't capable to; she just didn't know if she had the energy after seeing Minthe...Molly refused to think about it.

Sherlock gently bent down and let Molly wrap her arms around his neck before picking her up in his arms. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, sighing softly. "I will be glad to tell you as much as possible," he replied, carrying her back to his residence. John and Mary hurried inside at Sherlock's soft orders to draw Molly a bath and make up her bed, leaving the two of them alone temporarily.

Molly was eventually sat down in Sherlock's bed. She had never been in his bedroom before. She hadn't even known that he _had_ a bedroom. Usually he stayed in the throne room. It was decorated in much of the same way, though, and it could've been an exact replica had it been bigger and without the bed as well as black curtains hanging in front of the window.

Complaining wasn't on the top of her list at the moment. It was so warm in his bed. All she wanted to do then was fall asleep and not wake up for a very, very long time.

But right now she needed answers.

Struggling to sit up as Sherlock tucked the blankets around her, Molly rubbed her eyes and sighed shortly. "How did you know about Minthe?" Molly blurted, and she blushed a little as Sherlock turned his sharp gaze to her. Nonetheless, she kept her own on his face.

He paused before rising from the bed and going to a large marble bowl in the corner of the darkened room. He filled a smaller bowl with the liquid inside of it then went back to Molly, holding it out to her along with a cloth. "Here. You need to clean up," he mumbled. 

"How did you know about Minthe?" She repeated firmly as she took the items from Sherlock. He smiled slightly, sitting back down on the bed next to Molly and leaning against the headboard.

"I saw," he simply said.

Molly scowled and set the things to the side. " _How_? Just tell me," she said in exasperation. 

Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line. "The basin in the throne room."

That made sense, she supposed, so she decided to leave that subject alone and jump to another. "What made you think it was a good idea to bring Minthe down here? She was perfectly fine on earth," she continued, pulling the blankets up over her and closing her eyes. Flashes of the events that had just happened kept replaying and replaying over and over in her mind. There was no way that she'd ever forget what had just happened. Guilt was already building.

"Did you not see? She herself was crumbling. Her powers were evaporating like water under the sun. There was no way to deny that she missed you. You were her life, Molly, and I took that away from her. She was _dying_ because of her feelings for you." Sherlock's eyes focused on Molly. She could see a deep sorrow in his expresssion. "So I thought maybe I could go back and fix my mistake. If I couldn't make you happy, then Minthe surely would."

Molly glanced away, tears biting at the back of her throat. "Why didn't she remember me?" She whispered. 

"The trip into the Underworld alone left her teetering on the edge of madness. She hadn't ever seen pain and suffering like this in her life. I had to erase her mind, else she would've quite literally fallen over dead; her mind and heart couldn't take it. It was better that way. It was a better chance for her and you. I tried and failed to make your stay here somewhat more bearable. I killed your lover ultimately," Sherlock rushed out. He jolted from the bed and began to pace, ruffling his curls with a growl. "I'm sending you back to your mother. It's better that way," he said quietly, dipping his head. "Earth has not gotten along well with you gone," he added with a sour laugh.

The goddess slid further into the blankets. She waited for a moment, staring down at the fabric and picking at a stray thread. "Does Mother still remember me at least? Does she miss me?" She muttered. Sherlock's weight shifted, and one of his large hands tilted Molly's chin up so her gaze met his. 

He nodded once to confirm both of Molly's questions. She relaxed slightly and let her eyes flutter shut.

Sherlock's lips pressing against her forehead made her glance up at him again with a soft gasp. He smirked then brushed his hand against her cheek. "Get some rest, Lady. I'll come in and let you know when to rise; if not me, it'll be Mary or John," he said in a hushed voice.

Molly raised her brows at him. Sherlock looked sad. Was he upset that she was going to be going back with her mother? It made sense, but now that she thought about it...she really wasn't _sure_ if she wanted to leave.

Sherlock, in the beginning, had been a downright ass to her. Despite the fact, he made sure she was as comfortable as she could get while staying with him. In a way, he had grown on her. Mary and John offered much consolement to her as well. 

Her spirit was still crippled over the loss over Minthe, but Sherlock was experienced with spirits. Would he want to have her stay?

She dug her nails into the mattress and scowled up at Sherlock. "I wish this wasn't so bloody hard," she snarled. Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, tugged him down so his eyes were level with hers, and kissed him.

The god made a noise of surprise against her mouth but reciprocated the kiss, pulling her body firmly against his. "What do you mean," he panted against her, "by that?"

Molly tightened her slight grasp on him. "Just kiss me, damn it."

She knew in the back of her mind that she was digging a deeper hole to bury herself in, but at that moment, with Sherlock's lips on every inch of her skin he could reach, one of his hands at the base of her skull and the other dancing along her waist and hip, Molly didn't care.

All she wanted to think about was how good of a kisser the god of the dead was.  
~*~  
"I'm staying."

Sherlock froze up on his throne, eyes temporarily darting to her before going back to the ghoul standing in front of him. He growled out a command in a language it seemed to understand, as it growled back and hobbled out of the room. Molly stepped closer to Sherlock, determination written on her face. 

"I want to stay here. With you and John and Mary," she repeated firmly. Sherlock sighed heavily.

"They need you on earth. Your mother isn't going to stop the famine unless she has you back."

"She can come and visit."

"It's not that simple. Think, Molly," he snapped. He flinched a little before bouncing from his throne to pace in front of it like usual. "My apologies. There have been too many deaths these past six months. Redbeard can't keep up with it, making sure souls can't escape, and to be honest, I'm not sure that I can for much longer," he rambled without breath.

"Redbeard?" Molly had been in the Underworld for long enough to know her way around, but she still didn't know it all apparently.

"The three headed dog guarding the front gates into the mortal world. The _godly_ name is Cerebus."

Molly smiled fondly. "You named him Redbeard?" She asked softly.

Sherlock stopped to face Molly. "And Cerebus for the mortals. Don't forget that," he added. Without warning, he was very suddenly in front of Molly and peering down at her. "Would you like to come along and see something?" He inquired quietly. Ever so gingerly, he slid her hand into his and brought it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "It was added a while back. You and that child seemed to agree that the Underworld needed more plants."

A giggle escaped Molly before she could stop it. "What did you do?" She teased.

Grinning, Sherlock started to pull her with him towards the corridor. 

It was almost as if the archway appeared from nowhere. He stopped just inside of it and held an arm out. "It's nothing terrible. Go ahead. It's a last gift," Sherlock said lowly. 

There it was. The sadness in his voice again. She chose to ignore it and entered the passage then stopped again, her eyes widening as she gasped at the sight. 

Silver trees and golden bushes lined a stepping stone path to a marble bench. That was set in the middle of an opening surrounded by flowers in vibrant colors. Grass and little green leaves dotted the landscape here and there. Upon further inspection, Molly saw that the leaves were mint.

Molly went to the bench, blinking back tears as she sat down. "You did this for me?" She couldn't believe it, but at the same time, she could. Sherlock actually listened to her request for a garden she had only mentioned in passing a few days ago.

Sherlock sat down beside her and kissed her temple. "I did it for the little girl too. She really wanted to see a garden. This one is just for you and me, of course. John and Mary can come out as well if they wanted. I'll make sure there's another few gardens around the Underworld for the souls to enjoy," he drawled. Molly rested against him for a moment and sighed quietly. She could get used to it.

"Sherlock?" It was now or never, she supposed. She was going to do it and never look back once. She had to.

"Hm?"

"I'm hungry." Molly sat up and looked him in the eyes as she lowered a hand almost to the ground and pulled up a pomegranate. Until then, she hadn't known she could do that. All the better.

Confusion was what Sherlock's expression held before he saw the fruit in her hand. "Molly," he breathed in warning, pressing his hand to hers, "you know what will happen if you eat that."

"I have a fair idea." Molly cracked the pomegranate open then delicately took out a seed, inspecting the blood red seed. "I had a craving for this suddenly. Besides, I haven't eaten since I've been on earth. So, Lord Hades..." She squeezed the seed until a trickle of juice ran down her hand and onto her wrist. Molly then looked at him and smiled warmly.

"Would you like me to stay here with you?"

Before Molly could even think about it, she slid the piece of fruit into her mouth and swallowed. Another and another she ate until she had eaten six seeds. She took the cloth Sherlock offered her and cleaned herself up. A brilliant smile lit her features as the god stared at her.

"I suppose you don't really have a choice now, do you?"

Sherlock gave his enthusiastic answer as a kiss.  
~*~  
Every six months, Molly would either be with her mother on earth or with Sherlock in the Underworld. As both wanted Molly to themselves (Sherlock had pointed out that she had eaten the pomegranate in the Underworld, and because of that she was destined to stay with him forever. Persistently Mother had said that if her daughter wasn't returned to her that she'd cause another famine again and let the human race die out. Both had good points), they grudgingly decided upon letting her choose how to split up the time; therefore, she decided to split the year evenly between both. When Molly was with her mother for the first six months, earth flourished. Her mother was always happy in those times. On the other side of things, when Molly was with Sherlock in the Underworld, her mother was sad and moody, and the earth reflected it. It became dark and cold, causing the plant life to die off and the animals to hide away.

It was one of the months where Molly was with Sherlock, but the earth wasn't desolated as it usually was. No, it was bright and warm, unusual for the time.

That day, Molly was getting married to Sherlock.

They had both decided it would be best for them, and a date was set for the two of them. Upon the news, Mother was first hesitant to give her blessing, but once she warmed up to Sherlock and saw how happy Molly was with him now made her give it without a second thought.

Molly could see her mother's reason behind it. After all, Sherlock _had_ taken her rather selfishly. He even admitted to the fact then apologized to the both of them for his greedy behavior.

She looked herself over in the glass of the window, biting her lip as she came back to the present. Mary had helped her into the long, flowing dress that one of the spirits of the Underworld had crafted. It was lovely. The dress was a deep red color, and wildflowers had been woven into the fabric by some sort of artful magic.

"You ready, Mols?" John nudged her gently towards the door. "They await you."

Molly smiled nervously at John, and he winked at her before taking Mary's hand and drifting out into the crowd. Their little girl was helping, this she knew. Otherwise, Molly had not a clue as to what they had all planned. It was exhilerating and scary at the same time.

She clenched her hands into fists and straightened her figure. Now was not the time to look nervous.

Without taking a breath, she glided into the throne room, following the path that the crowd had cleared for her. Despite the fact that every soul but the punishment-damned was in the room (witchcraft, it had to be), it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Sherlock had invited the majority of the gods and goddesses as well, but she wasn't sure that many showed up.

As she passed, Molly saw a few faces that she recognized: her mother, teary-eyed and red-faced, Hecate, a few of her satyr and nymph friends, and the Watsons holding hands and smiling supportively. 

Finally, at the end of the path was Sherlock, standing stoically and peering down at her calmly. He was dressed in his body armor, and the helmet sat off to the side of his throne. Molly coud see that despite the cool demeanor, she could see in his eyes that he was just as afraid as she was. She reached him then stood beside him, still nibbling at her bottom lip.

A little girl of about four ran up to them with a pillow. Sat on it was a flower crown which on the first look seemed to be made of real flowers. Molly watched as Sherlock patted the girl on the head before taking the crown and holding it up for the sea of individuals to see. In the light, the crown twinkled and glinted, and Molly saw then that it was crafted from precious metals and jewels. The front of the crown held a small ruby that was carved as a skull.

It looked to Molly as if it carried quite a bit of weight.

Sherlock waited for the girl to run back into the crowd and to the Watsons. He then began to speak, his voice carrying around the vaulted space.

"Today the Underworld will witness a rare sighting. Indeed, the word will carry round the world for all the gods and mortals to hear: Hades has found and married a lover." At this, a soft rumble of laughter sounded. "But Lady Persephone is not only a lover." He turned to her and lifted the crown again so it hovered above her head. She moved to face him, bowing her head and not daring to breathe. "Let it be known that she is now Queen Persephone: queen of the Underworld, ruler of the dead, _and_..."

Sherlock settled the wide ring of metal and gems on her head, and Molly let out a soft breath. The crown wasn't heavy at all; in fact, it was light as a bird's feather. It rode comfortably on her head and was cool to the touch.

_Concentrate._

His hand was cupping her cheek, bringing her gaze back up to his. His eyes were warm and danced with mirth. "...and she is my wife as well," he finished softly. Sherlock's lips pressed against hers, and she kissed him back earnestly. The crowd erupted with happy cheers.

"Before we go any further, first we must be sure that her throne is well-suited to her. Lady, do take a seat," Sherlock said, pulling away from her and motioning behind her. Molly furrowed her brows in confusion and flitted her gaze in the direction of his motions then gasped softly. In front of her eyes sat a throne the size of Sherlock's, but it was decorated much differently. The throne for her was covered with flowers and mint (her heart gave a slight pang, but she tried to ignore it) and was built from oak. Dotting the chair were small animal bones. It gave it a slightly more morbid feel, but she didn't mind. Her throne was well-suited as far as she could tell.

"Sit in it if you like it so much," Sherlock whispered teasingly in her ear, lightly pushing her towards it. Molly narrowed her eyes at him before letting her eyes shut.

Now or never. It was a new beginning for all of them, for Sherlock, for herself.

It was time to let go. Minthe was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

Molly lowered herself into the throne, let her eyes flutter open, and stared into the patiently waiting crowd. She smiled pleasantly and nodded slightly. "I am Lord Hades's wife, Queen Persephone, and all of creation will know that I am the ruler of the undead," she announced.

Again the crowd exploded into roars, and this time it was even louder than before. She glanced over in time to see Sherlock settling in his own throne and gave him a wide smile when he looked at her with a grin of his own. "Thank you," she mouthed to him; after he nodded back, they both turned their attention to the swarm of beings cheering.

Molly finally let go of Minthe that day. She never forgot about her, though.

To smother the occasional pain of remembrance, she instead focused on Sherlock and her new subjects.

After all, she _was_ a queen with duties to fulfill.


End file.
